About
A little thing, from a page, imagined, written, captured, and processed one night, then finalized the next day.
Literal and suggestive.
Visual and textual.
Simple and complex.
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Sunday, February 26, 2012
The Face of Evil
A little thing, from a page, imagined, written, captured, and processed one night, then finalized the next day.
Literal and suggestive.
Visual and textual.
Simple and complex.
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Unwelcome
About
Unwelcome spirits in the hollows of the mind...
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Friday, February 24, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| A mirror can only break once, unlike the heart. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| When life gives you lemons, squeeze them for all their worth. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Sunday, February 19, 2012
Postcard from Valnor
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.
// Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| Within "change" is can. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| Pining — Good for making art. Bad for your heart. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Monday, February 13, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| Stop and smell the roses, but beware the bees and the thorns. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Sunday, February 12, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| Laugh when you can. Cry when you need to. Let love, not hate, guide you. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Saturday, February 11, 2012
Today's Tendril...
| Love is a quagmire, with pockets of fog, bathed in twilight, and teeming with critters. |
© Copyright 2012 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Saturday, December 31, 2011
Return of the Misfit
What did the small blue square do at the festival of the red circles?
Silently move among them, observing, wincing, and mentally remaking the sights, smells, and sounds in its own image, in order to quell the moans of a lacerated inner spirit.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
Silently move among them, observing, wincing, and mentally remaking the sights, smells, and sounds in its own image, in order to quell the moans of a lacerated inner spirit.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Monday, November 28, 2011
Pondered a Pumpkin
On a rain-swept night in late September, in a field farthest from the farm, a plump little pumpkin pondered its fate—
This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
The hour draws nigh and I worry,
What will become of me?
Am I to be the pride of someone's porch,
Or smashed to bits on a sidewalk?
Will the punkin chunkers pick me for my perfect shape,
Or will malcontents on Mischief Night turn me into a weapon?
Will I be carved by a master's hand,
Or maimed by greedy little paws?
Perhaps I'll be the featured pie at dessert,
Or the favorite flavor in a seasonal muffin basket.
Oh, to be the figurehead on a Grand Marshal's float, now that would be great! Or the fiery companion of a headless horseman, whose monologue climaxes with:
Yes, what a wonderful moment that would be.
But one thing that I try not to consider, though it's with me always, like a demon that cannot be exorcised, is this: If no one wants me, then what thoughts will consume me as I slowly rot in a muddy field?
What will become of me?
Am I to be the pride of someone's porch,
Or smashed to bits on a sidewalk?
Will the punkin chunkers pick me for my perfect shape,
Or will malcontents on Mischief Night turn me into a weapon?
Will I be carved by a master's hand,
Or maimed by greedy little paws?
Perhaps I'll be the featured pie at dessert,
Or the favorite flavor in a seasonal muffin basket.
Oh, to be the figurehead on a Grand Marshal's float, now that would be great! Or the fiery companion of a headless horseman, whose monologue climaxes with:
"Hear me, costumed fools, the witching hour has begun, and you must answer for your depravity, your reverie, and your mockery of All Hallows' Evening. Know this, my trembling little meat sacks, I shall cleave you with great fanfare and draw your spirits into the groaning abyss of my fleshless body. Aha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!"
Yes, what a wonderful moment that would be.
But one thing that I try not to consider, though it's with me always, like a demon that cannot be exorcised, is this: If no one wants me, then what thoughts will consume me as I slowly rot in a muddy field?
About
This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.
// Sunday, November 27, 2011
Tipping Point
While waiting at the end of a long, long line at a popular coffee shop during lunch hour, a masked and costumed avenger grew ever more disgusted with the whiny, self-important patrons complaining that the "service here is horrible," that they have "more important things to do than wait on a line," and that they "only get one lunch hour."
The straw that broke the camel's back was a fat, designer-label flaunting, cell phone earpiece wearing "executive" who raised hell when his extra hot nonfat organic double whipped decaf macchiato with low calorie chocolate syrup drizzle and a light dusting of cinnamon was only moderately hot and heavily dusted (so claimed the snob).
So, the avenger left the line and went to the restroom, where he used his super powers to make himself invisible and weightless, then transported himself to an area right above the baristas, and spent the remainder of the afternoon meting out justice on the insolent, the obnoxious, and the pretentious by changing their sugar to salt, milk to urine, decaf to caf, and whip cream to hemorrhoid cream.
Later that night in the avenger's secret lair, the avenger stood beneath a skylight, gazed into the full Moon, replayed the events at the coffee shop, and concluded, "Sometimes justice leaves a bad taste in your mouth."
The End
Don't we all long to be this costumed avenger? (At least once in our lives.)
This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
The straw that broke the camel's back was a fat, designer-label flaunting, cell phone earpiece wearing "executive" who raised hell when his extra hot nonfat organic double whipped decaf macchiato with low calorie chocolate syrup drizzle and a light dusting of cinnamon was only moderately hot and heavily dusted (so claimed the snob).
So, the avenger left the line and went to the restroom, where he used his super powers to make himself invisible and weightless, then transported himself to an area right above the baristas, and spent the remainder of the afternoon meting out justice on the insolent, the obnoxious, and the pretentious by changing their sugar to salt, milk to urine, decaf to caf, and whip cream to hemorrhoid cream.
Later that night in the avenger's secret lair, the avenger stood beneath a skylight, gazed into the full Moon, replayed the events at the coffee shop, and concluded, "Sometimes justice leaves a bad taste in your mouth."
The End
About
Don't we all long to be this costumed avenger? (At least once in our lives.)
This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.
Tendrils 14: Tendrils, Flash Fiction, and Other Orbits
Basking in the orange glow of thirteen identical Jack-o-Lanterns, a tabby cat fantasized about being the dreaded black cat of a wicked witch, living in a dilapidated, bug infested, and moss laced cabin secluded deep within an alligator laden swamp, instead of being owned by superficial yuppies and sprawled out on their designer couch in an overpriced penthouse in a noisy metropolis.
Georgina, the friendly, free-spirited ghost, was so excited that Halloween had finally arrived, that she danced a happy little dance for all to see.
Every ghoul loved it, except for Victor, because he was an amorphous ectoplasmic blob with no sense of rhythm.
How can you turn as "white as a ghost" when your heart is as "black as night"?
When the leaves change and begin to fall, so do the spirits of many.
And only the green of spring can rescue them from their funk.
M.O.N.S.T.E.R. — Malevolent. Odorous. Nasty. Sinister. Tempestuous. Evil. Rude.
What do you call a young, attractive female ghost that only dates rich, old male ghosts?
Ghoul-diggers!
What do ghosts wear as camouflage?
Drapes!
How do you tell the difference between a boy pumpkin and a girl pumpkin?
The boy pumpkin is the one with the stem!
A mixed bag of text: Two flash fiction pieces, two reflections, a backronym, and a few jokes (including one a bit blue).
This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
Georgina, the friendly, free-spirited ghost, was so excited that Halloween had finally arrived, that she danced a happy little dance for all to see.
Every ghoul loved it, except for Victor, because he was an amorphous ectoplasmic blob with no sense of rhythm.
How can you turn as "white as a ghost" when your heart is as "black as night"?
When the leaves change and begin to fall, so do the spirits of many.
And only the green of spring can rescue them from their funk.
M.O.N.S.T.E.R. — Malevolent. Odorous. Nasty. Sinister. Tempestuous. Evil. Rude.
What do you call a young, attractive female ghost that only dates rich, old male ghosts?
Ghoul-diggers!
What do ghosts wear as camouflage?
Drapes!
How do you tell the difference between a boy pumpkin and a girl pumpkin?
The boy pumpkin is the one with the stem!
About
A mixed bag of text: Two flash fiction pieces, two reflections, a backronym, and a few jokes (including one a bit blue).
This work is part of the Leftover Candy collection, which is a set of works inspired by the 2011 Halloween season.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.
// Thursday, November 24, 2011
Just for Fun 3: Awaken to the Possibilities
One need not say "yes" in order to know what is possible, nor say "no" to express what is unacceptable.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Friday, November 11, 2011
// Thursday, October 27, 2011
Today's Tendril...
| Dealing with the complexities and nuances of "life choices" is like being at the center of an angry swarm of bees — the noise is overwhelming and disorienting, and the odds are good (very good) that you'll be stung repeatedly, and without mercy. |
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Today's Tendril...
| Q: What is the science of society? A: Structured civility, until crisis, catastrophe, or imminent threat becomes all consuming. Then, the science of society is that of chaos, barbarism, and human hives. |
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Monday, October 24, 2011
2 Abstract "Sunset..." Images
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Thursday, October 20, 2011
Repine
It was an unusually warm and dry Fall, and the scarecrow in the cornfield was sweating up a storm.
"What I wouldn't give for a little rain, or a cool breeze, or even a cold rolling fog," said the scarecrow in a sad, soft voice.
"My straw is baked and brittle, my colorful patches are cracked and dull, and my hat is covered with stalagmites of crow pooh.
"Rain, oh, rain, why have you forsaken me? WHY???"
A heartbeat later, the clear blue sky turned a deep green-gray, angry anvil clouds appeared out of thin air, and a bellowing twister, as black as coal with tendrils of lightning, touched down...right on top of the scarecrow.
After a few moments of swirling fury, the storm streaked into the horizon, and disappeared.
As tranquil blue reclaimed the sky, a murder of crows surveyed the cornfield for damage.
To their surprise, the only damage that could be seen was a small, bare patch of earth where the scarecrow had been staked.
The End
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
"What I wouldn't give for a little rain, or a cool breeze, or even a cold rolling fog," said the scarecrow in a sad, soft voice.
"My straw is baked and brittle, my colorful patches are cracked and dull, and my hat is covered with stalagmites of crow pooh.
"Rain, oh, rain, why have you forsaken me? WHY???"
A heartbeat later, the clear blue sky turned a deep green-gray, angry anvil clouds appeared out of thin air, and a bellowing twister, as black as coal with tendrils of lightning, touched down...right on top of the scarecrow.
After a few moments of swirling fury, the storm streaked into the horizon, and disappeared.
As tranquil blue reclaimed the sky, a murder of crows surveyed the cornfield for damage.
To their surprise, the only damage that could be seen was a small, bare patch of earth where the scarecrow had been staked.
The End
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.
Today's Tendril...
| Drowning integrity with one hand and holding a noose with the other. |
Alternate Version A
You're drowning integrity with one hand, while reaching for a life preserver with the other.
Alternate Version B
You're so committed to drowning integrity that you don't even know that it's you gasping for air.
About
Perhaps this is a subconscious response to the news being awash with profit mongers, two-faced politicians, and "debate" segments that are nothing more than inflammatory talking heads.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Sunday, October 16, 2011
Today's Tendril...
| A good myth transcends the motives of the myth makers. |
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
Just for Fun 2
I really enjoy silly jokes, dumb jokes, corny jokes, and kids' jokes, which, collectively, come under the general heading of "bad" jokes.
So, I wasn't surprised to receive a kid-friendly Halloween joke from a family member.
The joke took the form of a question and my response, while good (IMHO), wasn't the actual punch line.
So rather than waste my punch line, I came up with a joke to go with it.
Before I knew it, I had a handful of bad Halloween and Autumn jokes.
And here they are, in all their gory. 8^)
Q: What is a demon's favorite dish?
A: Fillet of soul.
Q: What do zombies on a diet eat?
A: Vegetarians.
A: What is a scarecrow's favorite candy?
Q: Candy corn (of course!)
Q: What is a werewolf's favorite dessert?
A: Moon pie!
Q: What is a vampire's favorite game?
A: Follow the bleeder.
Q: Why do mummies go to psychiatrists?
A: Because they're wound too tight.
Q: What do little monsters eat on Halloween?
A: Ghoul-bers
Alternate answers:
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
So, I wasn't surprised to receive a kid-friendly Halloween joke from a family member.
The joke took the form of a question and my response, while good (IMHO), wasn't the actual punch line.
So rather than waste my punch line, I came up with a joke to go with it.
Before I knew it, I had a handful of bad Halloween and Autumn jokes.
And here they are, in all their gory. 8^)
Q: What is a demon's favorite dish?
A: Fillet of soul.
Q: What do zombies on a diet eat?
A: Vegetarians.
A: What is a scarecrow's favorite candy?
Q: Candy corn (of course!)
Q: What is a werewolf's favorite dessert?
A: Moon pie!
Q: What is a vampire's favorite game?
A: Follow the bleeder.
Q: Why do mummies go to psychiatrists?
A: Because they're wound too tight.
Q: What do little monsters eat on Halloween?
A: Ghoul-bers
Alternate answers:
- Boo berries and banana slugs
- Spider-doodles
- Bat nuggets
- Tombstone flavored taffy
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Wednesday, October 05, 2011
// Saturday, October 01, 2011
The Emissary
About
A feeling, a fleeting moment, and a frame (of mind, spirit, and sight).
This is one of my favorite works.
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Saturday, September 17, 2011
Said the...Demon
After a long day of tempting and mischief, two tiny, plump demons are winding down with excessive amounts of libation and a frank discussion.
We join their conversation, already in progress.
"What is it with people and their obsession with transcendence?" slurred one demon to his inebriated cohort.
"I mean, they're always looking to transcend something—in art, in spirit, in effort—that they completely ignore the real and precious gift that is the here and now.
"But I guess that's actually good for us, right? I mean, it definitely makes our jobs easier, assuming they don't actually find anything. Hmmm..."
And after a long and thoughtful pause, the demon added, "A toast, then, to those in search of transcendence — may it be the golden carrot that's always just out of reach. CHEERS!"
The End
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
We join their conversation, already in progress.
"What is it with people and their obsession with transcendence?" slurred one demon to his inebriated cohort.
"I mean, they're always looking to transcend something—in art, in spirit, in effort—that they completely ignore the real and precious gift that is the here and now.
"But I guess that's actually good for us, right? I mean, it definitely makes our jobs easier, assuming they don't actually find anything. Hmmm..."
And after a long and thoughtful pause, the demon added, "A toast, then, to those in search of transcendence — may it be the golden carrot that's always just out of reach. CHEERS!"
The End
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
This text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.
A Fortune in Lies
About
Chinese takeout one night came with a handful of fortune cookies. This is what mine contained (sans the keyboard).
After reading it to my wife, she quipped, "That still doesn't mean you can climb to the top of a mountain, jump off its peak and expect to fly. Plummet, yes. Fly, no." (We had a good laugh.)
Translated: You still need to know your limits, even while pushing them; otherwise, you may push yourself beyond the point of no return.
Since this fortune didn't come with an attribution (truth be told, I've only seen one that has, and it was a quote from Confucius (I kid you not)), I searched for the text (i.e., Googled it) and found that it's attributed to Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, a deceased French philosopher and Jesuit priest.
Who would have thought that one fortune cookie and Google could lead to so much?
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
// Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Immersed in Reflection
Why do we put pen to paper?
Why do we work and rework,
edit and revise,
strikethrough and scrap?
Why do we even bother
with the written word at all,
when we're immersed in the Great Internet Age?
Where smartphones and e-readers,
and texting and tweets,
and tablets galore (some, a gore),
and social media (all a "like"),
are here, there, and everywhere,
and are all the buzz and the rage.
(But will they have grace with age?)
Because a world without paper and pen,
without the written word,
and without its poems, prose, and stories,
that glide across a paper page,
like a cool breeze that rustles leaves,
and nudges clouds across a dreamer's mind,
is no world for me,
and may as well be
the tenth circle of Hell...
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
Why do we work and rework,
edit and revise,
strikethrough and scrap?
Why do we even bother
with the written word at all,
when we're immersed in the Great Internet Age?
Where smartphones and e-readers,
and texting and tweets,
and tablets galore (some, a gore),
and social media (all a "like"),
are here, there, and everywhere,
and are all the buzz and the rage.
(But will they have grace with age?)
Because a world without paper and pen,
without the written word,
and without its poems, prose, and stories,
that glide across a paper page,
like a cool breeze that rustles leaves,
and nudges clouds across a dreamer's mind,
is no world for me,
and may as well be
the tenth circle of Hell...
© Copyright 2011 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.